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I would not have thought that today's sky could be worse than yesterday's, but that just goes to show what I know. I suppose this is beautiful New England autumn day. I suppose this is what people would mean were they to use that phrase, those words in that order. It's sunny and 63˚F.

It's horrifying the way this year evaporated. It all made sense up until late April or early May, and then the whole thing went to shit. And the days raced past. And now we're here, in the death knell of 2015.

I didn't write yesterday. And I didn't write the day before.

I have five photographs that Kathryn took yesterday:





Two days after Halloween, one of our two jack-o'-lanterns this year. It met with an unfortunate post-holiday accident. (7:53 a.m.)



The other jack-o'-lantern. (7:53 a.m.)



3:42 p.m.



3:47 p.m.



5:00 p.m.

All photographs Copyright © 2015 by Kathryn A. Pollnac

Comments

( 7 comments — Have your say! )
setsuled
Nov. 4th, 2015 05:11 pm (UTC)
Great jack o'lanterns. I like how the second one seems to be winking slightly. I hope things get better.
Musically Speaking
Nov. 4th, 2015 05:28 pm (UTC)
Thank you, Kathryn, for the lovely pics. It is, indeed, a talent to find the beauty amid the glum.
humglum
Nov. 5th, 2015 02:58 pm (UTC)
I love autumn, and all the shades of the landscape readying for winter. Plants dying or going dormant. Trees turning to flame before they shed their leaves. The smells and the sound of leaves underfoot.
But, yeah, I was always a somewhat morbid kid.
nerthus
Nov. 4th, 2015 06:33 pm (UTC)
I usually enjoy fall, such as it is here in ugly West Texas (no lovely colors to speak of); but my son died suddenly of a heart attack 7 weeks ago at age 31 and now I am always going to associate the tail end of summer/beginning of fall with his death. The time change has messed me up as well; it gets dark earlier now and my depression and missing my son is so much worse at night. He lived with me and helped me care for his autistic sister, and I found him around 12:45 am on a Sunday morn in my living room floor; I did cpr and called 911 but he was already gone. My life has since become a strange horror novel, it's like there was one me before his death and now this whole different me I don't recognize; likewise the world went from comfortable old world one day to this whole new, alternate world the next. It's like most people don't realize they've moved into an alternate universe, only me; for them everything is the same but for me even the most familiar things from before seem almost horrible because the entire context of existence has gone from these things BEFORE Daniel died to these things NOW, mocking me almost with their indifferent continued existence while my son is no more. And the world outside my front door is bright and sunny and all the streets still look the same and the same people greet me at the supermarket, with myself one day pretending I still live in their universe by chatting politely with them and declining to let them know my son has died, and other days I feel some perverse need to drag some unsuspecting soul into my NEW universe by telling them my son just died and watching their faces fall, their minds go blank, the instinctive recoil away from me because they don't wish to be pulled from the ocmfortable mundane universe I USED to share with them into my new, horribly isolated world. Sure, I know it's actually the same old universe I inhabit, it's just my life, my heart, my mind that has suffered this trauma of burying a child so that now it all seems different and hostile and strange; but when you think about all the people dying every minute all over the globe and how that affects those closest to them, it's like we all are caught up in a plethora of continuously altering/transforming earths based on the collective cosmic/quantum shift in consciousness of those who grieve. I probably sound like a loon, sigh, but I know you've lost someone very special to you in the past, and maybe you 'get' what I'm saying in my rambling, depressed way today.
raidingparty
Nov. 4th, 2015 07:19 pm (UTC)
This is definitely a familiar feeling.
Peace be with you.
nerthus
Nov. 4th, 2015 07:51 pm (UTC)
Thank you; I stopped being a Christian years ago but since my son's death I have been reading all his Buddhist books he left behind and am finding a strange comfort in their austere precepts of impermanence and no-self and groundlessness, etc. I always told him the DIY aspect of Buddhism as opposed to the Jesus will save and carry you aspect of Christianity troubled me, as I felt there was little comfort to be had in Buddhism and find the idea of reincarnation repugnant. Once down here is more than enough for me, sigh. But anyway, I am not able to 'feel' God or anything really of that sort right now but find just the acknowledgment in Buddhism of suffering and the Four Noble Truths to be a link somehow to my son and his devotion to Buddhist principles. Maybe as I move on along my grief path I will call again upon some higher Deity as per my upbringing; but no matter what I do or don't do, my son won't return again and that is what hurts the most. We had such lovely conversations and discussions about everything from classic lit (he loved Mark Twain and Dickens and Shelley, etc.) to music (we loved scouring music stores for old vinyl albums and sitting up till 2 or 3 am listening to and discussing the various albums and artists) to philosophy and spiritual topics, and he was pretty much my best friend. I miss talking to him so very much. I have all his half-finished journals and feel sad that he didn't leave me MORE things to read and cherish; every one of his friends has of course now been contacted about his death, including his Buddhist teacher who lives in another state, so now all he gets on his email account is spam; but I still email him and tell him what I'm thinking or feeling or what's going on in the world since he left, just because I feel so sad that his email account has gone silent and no one will ever talk with him there again. Maybe someday I'll leave it behind, but I'm not ready to at this point. Again, thank you for your kind words.
Kiki Lang
Nov. 4th, 2015 10:23 pm (UTC)
A blue in your eyes.
I'm bit superstitious. I try to put a Jack o' lantern at the entrance of both my exterior doors. I believe it keeps the bad luck out for another year. I was a bit late this year, and the bad luck is starting already. If is the actual begin of the year, good luck to all, and best wishes.
( 7 comments — Have your say! )